The Janitor
by RedQ
Summary: "Umm…hi," the coma kid said awkwardly as he got into the elevator, "Sorry, but…who are you?" Gary rolled his eyes in annoyance. "I'm Gary," he answered simply, "The janitor here." The tall kid stared at him. "We have a janitor?" (Humor)
1. Perry, The Coma Kid

**I know it's a dumb thing to wonder about, but STAR Labs is huge. Who maintains that whole building? Who cleans it? Who empties the garbage cans? Who cleans the floors? I decided to fill in the gaps with my own little original background character.**

 ***Not a serious story. Just a little humor mixed with a minor plot.**

 **Important: Takes place in early season one. Barry just got his powers and has only been the Flash for a few weeks.**

* * *

 **Perry, The Coma Kid**

 **01X03**

* * *

Wrappers. Wrappers everywhere!

If Cisco didn't start cleaning up after himself, Gary was to lose it. He may be a janitor, but he wasn't the guy's mother. He was here to empty the garbage cans, not fill them first and _then_ empty them. How was this kid not diabetic by now with all this candy?! Gary was getting way too old for this job.

He sighed as he got into the elevator and pressed the button for the sixth floor. That was always where most of the mess was, and he always saved that floor for last. Before the elevator doors closed, however, another person suddenly slipped into the elevator next to him. It was the tall kid, the one who had been sleeping in the cortex for nearly nine months.

Gary didn't really know the coma kid very well. He didn't even remember the guy's name. He knew it was something that rhymed with his own. What was it again? Terry? Jerry? Larry? Harry? Perry? Something like that.

"Umm…hi," Perry said awkwardly as he got into the elevator, staring at him in confusion, "Sorry, but…who are you?"

Gary rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"I'm Gary," he answered simply, "The janitor here."

The tall kid stared at him.

"We have a janitor?" he blurted.

Gary sighed.

"Well, who else do you think cleans this whole building?" he asked condescendingly, "Dr. Wells?"

"No," Perry said quickly, "I mean…um…yeah, I guess that makes sense that we would need a janitor. I just never thought about it before."

Gary wasn't really listening to the kid's awkward rambling, though. He was busy staring down at the kid's shoes.

"So, you're the culprit," he muttered irritably.

"Sorry?" Perry said, a confused look on his face.

Gary pointed down at his feet.

"Your shoes," he said stiffly, "You're the one leaving all the scuff marks all over the place."

"Oh," the kid said, his face going red, "Yeah, probably…sorry."

"I understand a few scuff marks," Gary grumbled, "But seriously?! How'd you get them on the _walls_ too?!"

Perry's ears went red to match his face.

"Sorry," he said, "I'll try to be more careful in the future."

"You know, you could just change your shoes," Gary said irritably, looking down at the kid's dress shoes, "Those ones aren't really designed for…running around."

Perry gave him an uneasy look at this words, his face flushing red.

"Sorry," he said sincerely, "These are my work shoes. I'll wear my convers instead from now on."

Gary gave him a nod of approval.

"Convers aren't too great for running either," he added after a moment.

Perry stared at him.

"And why do I need running shoes?" he asked awkwardly, trying a little too hard to sound nonchalant.

Gary almost laughed. How the hell had the kid managed to keep his identity a secret these last few weeks?! He had a terrible poker face.

"Relax, Perry," Gary chuckled, "I already know you're the Streak. You guys keep the damn suit in the middle of the cortex after all."

"Oh," Perry said, "Right."

"It's not a very smart place," Gary said rolling his eyes, "You're just lucky my job contract states I'm supposed to keep _everything_ I see here to myself. Don't worry. I'm not going to tell anyone."

"I'd really appreciate that," Perry said with a nervous laugh.

"No problem, Perry," Gary grunted.

"It's Barry," the kid said quietly, facing forward in the elevator again.

"Right," Gary clipped, "I suppose that's better than 'coma kid' at least."

Gary couldn't help but smile in amusement when he saw the kid blush.

"So, you…?" Per—Barry started awkwardly, "You saw me? The whole time I was in a coma?"

"Sure did," Gary replied simply, "Even helped Dr. Snow change your sheets a couple times. And let me just say, you're not as light as you look, kid."

"Oh, um…" Barry mumbled, "Thanks, I guess. For helping out."

"Don't mention it," Gary grunted.

The elevator was silent the rest of the ride up. Gary had to admit, it was weird for him, too. It was weird having the coma kid standing up and actually talking to him after being dead to the world for nine months. Gary didn't know why, but he strangely liked the kid, despite his horrible dress shoes. As the elevator doors were opening, Gary was struck by a sudden thought.

"Barry," he said quietly when they stepped out of the elevator, "Hang on a second."

He pulled Barry over to the wall before the kid could run off to the cortex. The two of them stayed in the hallway, away from prying ears.

"I need to tell you something," Gary said seriously.

Barry's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He was probably wondering what the hell a strange, old janitor would have to say to him.

"Be careful around Dr. Wells," Gary whispered urgently.

Barry stared at him.

"W-what?" he asked quietly, a bewildered look on his face, "Why?"

Gary shook his head.

"It's just a feeling," he said simply, "There's something strange about him, especially when it comes to _you_."

"What do you mean?" Barry whispered, a confused look on his face.

"Dr. Wells is _very_ interested in you," Gary said seriously.

Barry opened and closed his mouth a couple times, a perplexed look on his face.

"Well, I'm the Flash," he said quietly, "I'm a walking scientific phenomenon, and he's a scientist. Of course he'd be int—"

"No," Gary said seriously, "It's much more than that. I'm talking about before you got your powers. Before you became the Flash. Before you even _woke up_."

Barry gave him a puzzled look.

"What do you mean?" he asked, "What makes you say _that_?"

Gary shook his head.

"When you were in a coma…" he said quietly, "Dr. Wells spent a lot of time at your bedside."

"Well, yeah," Barry said immediately, "He was in charge of my care."

"No, Dr. Snow was," Gary corrected, "Dr. Wells…he wasn't just taking care of you, kid."

Barry shook his head in confusion.

"What do you mean?" he asked seriously, "What else would he have been doing?"

"I don't know," Gary whispered, "But listen to me, Barry. Dr. Wells is _obsessed_ with you."

Barry snorted at that.

"I find that hard to believe," he said, shaking his head, "Dr. Wells has a lot more important things to focus on than—"

"He used to watch you sleep," Gary said, cutting the kid off, "He used to watch you sleep for hours."

Barry's eyebrows furrowed.

"W-what?" he stuttered, before shaking his head stubbornly, "No, he was just taking care of me."

"Barry, I caught him sitting by your bedside multiple times," Gary said, "He wasn't taking care of you. He would just sit there…for hours, staring at you. Sometimes talking."

Barry looked down at the floor, a thoughtful frown on his face.

"What would he say?" he asked curiously.

Gary shook his head.

"I never really heard what he said to you," he told him.

It wasn't entirely true. Gary had caught snippets of it, here and there. Wells often whispered when he spoke to the comatose patient, so it had been hard to hear without entering the room and letting Wells know he was there. Wells often thought the building was empty when he spoke to Barry. Like everyone else, he overlooked the janitor.

Gary didn't know what to tell the kid, though. None of what Wells said in his private monologues made any sense. He spoke about fate and reckonings and a bunch of other things Gary didn't understand. All he knew was that it was weird and extremely creepy. Wells had a very unhealthy interest in the boy, and Gary felt like it was only right to warn him.

"Just trust me, Barry," he said seriously, "Be careful around Dr. Wells."

Barry continued to look at him with furrowed eyebrows.

"Okay," he whispered, nodding slowly, "I will."

Gary nodded, feeling satisfied as he then walked away from the bewildered young hero. He was glad he had said something. Gary didn't know if Dr. Wells meant the kid any harm, but he felt better now that he had given him a heads up. Whatever happened now was out of his hands. He had done his part.

Now, all he had to worry about were those stupid candy wrappers.

* * *

 **Let me know what you think. I might do a few more chapters involving different parts of the first three seasons, showing how Gary was there for all of it, as a silent observer. Don't worry, though. I always keep things Barry-centric ;)**


	2. Just Here to Clean the Windows

**Just Here to Clean the Windows**

 **01x04**

* * *

Dr. Wells was an interesting man.

Gary had been working at STAR Labs for ten years and probably knew the man better than anyone else. Did he know him personally? No. Did he ever talk to him? Only in passing. But Gary _observed_. He knew Wells better than the man's own employees did. He knew when Wells was stressed or happy or feeling down.

And he knew when he was angry.

The thing about Harrison Wells was that he always carefully concealed his emotions. His reserved nature didn't permit him to show unbefitting emotions like anger. Very few times had Gary actually seen the man lose control.

Now wasn't one of those moments.

Wells' voice was quiet, careful. He didn't raise his voice. In fact, he spoke in nearly a whisper. Somehow, that always made his fury so much more terrifying.

"How long has it been missing?"

"I don't know."

Gary wasn't trying to eavesdrop. He rarely ever was. He just always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The storage closet for some of his cleaning supplies just so happened to be near the storage room for recycled projects, which was where the voices were coming from. Gary could immediately tell by the scary control in his voice that Dr. Wells was extremely angry.

"I'm going to ask you again, Cisco," he said quietly, "But when I do, I expect a more specific answer than 'I don't know.' Now, how long has this _weapon_ been gone?"

"A day?" Cisco said in a small voice, "Maybe two? The janitor didn't show up this morning. He was probably the one who—"

"He had a doctor's appointment this morning," Wells dismissed, "The janitor's been out sick all week."

"The _janitor_ ," Gary said, stepping into the room, "Also has a name."

The three of them all turned their heads to look at him in shock. Cisco looked particularly embarrassed to see Gary casually standing there, his hands in his pockets.

"And I didn't take whatever it is you're missing," Gary added calmly.

Cisco blushed and looked down at the floor. Caitlin simply stood back, an uncomfortable expression on her face as she witnessed the awkward exchange unfold. Cisco looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Wells," he said earnestly, turning back to his superior, "I didn't think that—"

Dr. Wells slammed the door shut on the locker in front of them, the loud clanging of metal cutting off Cisco's words.

"You didn't think," Dr. Wells gritted, looking far too intimidating for a man who was in a wheelchair, "Because _if_ you had, you would have discussed _with me_ first your desire to build something that could, in theory, hurt anyone, in particular: _Barry Allen_!"

Cisco closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself before speaking.

"I'm _sorry_ ," he said slowly, trying to keep his voice calm, "If you just let me _explain_ …"

"You know how I feel about _weapons_ , Cisco," Dr. Wells gritted, his voice shaking in anger, "They do not belong in STAR Labs. Now…you are going to figure out a way to locate this _gun_ , and you are going to do it _right now._ "

Dr. Wells paused for a moment, his eyes burrowing into the young scientists for a few prolonged seconds before he turned his wheelchair around. He glanced briefly at Gary as he passed him in the doorway.

"Don't you have windows to clean?" he muttered as he passed, exiting the room.

Gary hardly paid him any mind, though, as he turned back to the other two standing in the dark space.

"Gary," Cisco said quickly to him, "I—"

Gary held up a hand to cut him off, shaking his head.

"No harm, no foul," he sighed, "People always tend to blame the janitor when something goes missing, and when you've got someone like Dr. Wells questioning you, I can't really fault you for it."

Cisco let out a heavy sigh.

"Still," he said quietly, "I'm sorry, man."

Gary smiled and shook his head.

"It's already forgotten," he assured him, but then his expression grew serious, "Barry is a good kid, though. I don't know why you would ever invent something that could harm him. This thing you built…what can it do?"

Cisco shook his head and looked at the empty locker in front of him, a haunted look in his eyes.

"Bad stuff."

* * *

Gary always knew to steer clear of Dr. Wells when he was angry. That was kind of a no-brainer. It took him longer, however, working at STAR Labs, to learn that the only other person who hated having people in their way more than Dr. Wells was Dr. Snow. Caitlin was always very kind to Gary. She always said hello to him when she passed him in the hallway, and she even picked up an extra coffee for him sometimes on her way to work. Most importantly, she cleaned up after herself. She didn't want anyone touching her medical supplies, which was something Gary respected about her. Most of the time, though, she was always happy to have him around.

Except when she was working.

When Dr. Snow was performing medical tasks, Gary knew to stay clear. Thankfully, this wasn't a particularly urgent situation, not like last week, when Barry had coming bursting into the cortex nearly unconscious, unable to breathe. The kid was hurt—that was for sure—but this situation didn't require the same fast-thinking and emergency medical interventions like the last incident had.

"It's still numb," Barry gasped, pulling up his shirt to look at the blacked wound on his abdomen.

Gary's stomach twisted at the sight of it. It looked like it hurt like hell.

"It's presenting itself like third-degree frostbite," Dr. Snow told them, pulling up her medical charts on the large computer screen.

"I thought he had hyper-healing," the blonde woman frowned.

Gary didn't know her name—he was bad with names—but he was pretty sure she was the speedy kid's girlfriend or something. Gary wasn't much of a romantic, but he had to admit, they made a cute pair. She seemed to fit right in with STAR Labs with that brain of hers. Not that his opinion really mattered anyways. He was just cleaning a window on the far side of the room, no one taking any notice to his presence.

"It's…been slowed," Dr. Snow said, unable to keep the hint of worry out of her voice as she turned to Barry, "If your cells weren't regenerating at the rate they are, your blood vessels would have frozen solid and the nerve damage would have been _permanent_. You're lucky to be alive."

"Snart wasn't another metahuman," Barry said seriously, standing up from the medical bed, "He had some kind of gun. It froze things…slowed me down…enough that I wasn't in time to save someone."

"According to his record," the blonde said, looking at her tablet, "Snart didn't even bother to finish high school, so how did _he_ build a high-tech snow machine?"

Gary looked up from the window he was washing, his hand pausing on the glass as he looked around the room. The others were all looking at the floor, no one quite willing to speak up. Gary's hands clenched into fists. If no one else was going to say anything, then he sure as hell would. The kid had a damn right to know.

"STAR Labs build the cold gun," he said quietly.

Everyone's heads all turned to look at him, as if just realizing he was there. He wasn't looking at anyone else, though. He was looking directly at Barry, whose eyes were widened in confusion. Barry's head whipped around then, looking questioning at the other three, as if asking them if it was true. Cisco let out a heavy sigh and stepped forward then.

"Dr. Wells and Caitlin had nothing to do with it," he said seriously, " _I_ built the gun."

Barry stared at him, his mouth slightly open as he processed what Cisco was telling him.

"You did?" he asked quietly, stepping closer to Cisco, " _Why_?"

"Because," Cisco sighed, "Speed and cold are opposites. Temperature is measured by how quickly the atoms of something are osculating. The faster they are, the hotter it is…"

Barry closed his eyes in understanding, a sickened expression on his face as Cisco continued to explain.

"And when things are cold," he said quietly, "They're slower on an anatomic level. When there's no movement at all, it's called—"

"—absolute zero," Barry finished for him, his voice shaking slightly.

"Yeah," Cisco whispered, "I…I designed a compact cryo engine to achieve absolute zero…I built it to stop you."

Gary's hand lowered from the glass in front of him, dirty windows completely forgotten as he measured Barry's reaction to Cisco's words. You could have heard a pin drop. The tension in the room was almost palpable. Barry seemed past words. The look of hurt and disbelief on his face said it all.

"I didn't know who you were then, Barry," Cisco explained in anguish, "I mean, what if you had turned out to be some _psycho_? Like Mardon or Nimbus?"

"But I didn't!" Barry shouted, his anger now bubbling to the surface, " _Did I_?!"

Thankfully, Dr. Snow stepped forward, trying to act as a mediator between the two young men.

"We built this entire structure you're standing in to do good," she said seriously, "And it _blew up_. In the wake of that, you can understand why Cisco would want to be prepared for the worst."

Gary closed his eyes and shook his head. Not the best line, Dr. Snow. Seriously, couldn't she see that the kid was hurt? He was feeling singled out by them right now, and taking Cisco's side, trying to _justify_ his actions, wasn't really going to help, good intentions aside.

"I can understand that," Barry replied angrily, trying to keep his voice calm, "But what I can't understand is why you didn't _tell me_ what you did. I mean, after all we've been through, I thought you trusted me! I thought we were _friends_!"

"We _are_ , Barry," Cisco assured him, stepping closer to him.

Barry pulled away from him though, his expression still hurt and guarded.

"I mean if you had just _told_ me, I could have been prepared!" he shouted, "But instead someone _died_ tonight!"

Cisco took in a deep, shaky breath.

"And I have to live with that," he said somberly.

"No, Cisco," Barry snapped, shaking his head in anger, "We _all_ do."

Cisco opened and closed his mouth a couple times, at a complete loss for words under Barry's furious gaze. When Cisco didn't say anything, Barry shook his head and walked away, storming out of the room. No one made a move to follow him. Seriously? No one was going to go talk to him?!

"Just give him space right now," Dr. Wells sighed, "He'll be fine."

Gary had to hold back a laugh. These people were as dumb as they come.

As everyone slowly filtered out of the room, Gary returned to washing his scrubbing, letting out a heavy sigh. It wasn't any of his business. He was just here to wash the windows. When he heard a heavy sigh from behind him, though, Gary looked around. Cisco was still in the room, sinking down to sit in one of the chairs behind the cortex desk, running his hands over his face. Gary sighed in exasperation.

"I'm sorry," he said, causing Cisco to look up at him.

He gave him a questioning look.

"For telling him what you did," Gary elaborated, "I'm sorry. He had to know, though."

"I know," Cisco sighed, "I was going to tell him. I just couldn't get the words out. I'm _glad_ you spoke up. Someone had to."

Gary nodded and then turned back to the window again. His hand only made a single swipe over the glass, though, before he let out a heavy sigh and set the rag down, turning to fully face the other man.

"He's not mad at you, you know."

Cisco removed his hands from his face again to look at him.

"What?"

"The kid," Gary grunted, walking over to the desk, "He's not mad at you."

"I don't know," Cisco said with a humorless laugh, "He seemed pretty damn mad."

Gary shook his head persistently.

"He's not," he sighed, sitting down in the chair next to Cisco, "He's not mad. He's _hurt_."

Cisco didn't say anything. He stared down at the desk in front of him, a miserable look on his face.

"Look, Cisco," Garry sighed, "The kid thought you guys were friends."

"We _are_ ," Cisco insisted, "We _are_ friends."

"I know," Gary said gently, "I know you are. I'm just trying to get you to see things his way. He's come to rely on you guys…trust you. What he does…protecting the city, risking his life…he can only do it with _your_ help. Your support. He trusts you guys with his _life_ …and then you turned around and built something that could _kill_ him."

"I know what I did," Cisco snapped, "And I feel bad about it enough as it is. I don't need you to make me feel worse."

"That's not what I'm trying to do," Gary assured him, "My _point_ is that he puts his life in your hands every day. He trusts you. That's why he's hurt that you didn't do the same. You didn't trust him."

"I _do_ trust him," Cisco said in anguish, "I trust Barry completely now. When I made that gun, I barely _knew_ him. Honestly, all we knew about Barry at the time was what Joe and Iris had told us about him and what we could find online, and those…weren't good things. On paper, Barry didn't seem like the most mentally stable person. Obviously, now I know he's not some psycho, but at the time, all I knew about him was that he had a past filled with trauma, a mom in the grave, a dad in prison, and a history of psychological delusions. Barry was under psychological evaluation for half his life after watching his mom be murdered. He's been in and out of therapy since he was eleven. Before I got to actually _know_ him, this was all the information about him I had to go off of. Forgive me for being a little nervous about someone like that being given _powers_."

Gary stared at Cisco. He hadn't known all of that about the kid. Obviously, he had realized Barry and the Wests weren't related, but he had never imagined the kid having such a tragic upbringing. Barry seemed so peppy all the time.

"I get why you would want to be careful," Gary said calmly, shaking off his shock from the information he had just been given, "I guess I can understand why you would want to take precautions. It's understandable…and I'm sure _Barry_ would understand if you just explained it to him."

"I can't," Cisco said in a strained voice, "Barry has faced prejudice from people for half his life. People have always assumed the worst about him because of his past. How am I supposed to tell him that I was no different? That I judged him prematurely just like everyone else?"

Gary let out a heavy sigh. The kid had a point.

"You should still talk to him," he insisted, "Assure to him that you trust him. Right now, Barry feels like you guys don't have his back. He feels on the outs. And if what you just told me is true, then Barry has felt on the outs for most of his life. For weeks now, I've watched you guys bond over ping pong and operation and chess games. I've watched you guys become friends. That's why Barry's feeling so betrayed right now. He's hurt because you betrayed that friendship."

Cisco looked down at the table in front of him again, mulling over his words. He shook his head and let out a heavy sigh.

"I can't talk to him tonight," he whispered, "Not after the way he looked at me. He needs time to cool down."

Gary let out a sigh of frustration and rolled his eyes.

"Alright," he said, deciding to finally butt out of it, "Have a good night then."

"Goodnight, Gary," Cisco sighed, standing up from his chair, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Gary nodded, not looking at Cisco as he exited the darkened cortex. Gary let out a sigh of frustration after Cisco left. These people were _clueless_. Did he not just get done saying that Barry was feeling on the outs? That he was feeling alone? And what was their grand solution?!

Giving him space.

Well, Gary wasn't going to do that. If no one else was going to talk to the kid, then he would. A groan escaped Gary's lips as he stood up from his chair, his old joints creaking in protest.

This was so not in his job description.

As Gary left the cortex and walked down the winding dark hallways of STAR Labs, he realized he didn't even know where the young speedster was. Well, maybe he did. The kid was pretty predictable after all. Sure enough, coma kid was in the first room he checked.

The speed lab.

Gary paused in the doorway for a moment, watching the kid run on the treadmill. He had seen it before, of course, but only a few times here and there. It never failed to make him stare in wonder. What the kid could do…it was incredible.

"You know," Gary said, clearing his throat as he entered the room, "That's not going to solve anything."

Barry looked around at him, slowing to a stop on the treadmill.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked breathlessly.

"I know," Gary rolled his eyes, "I've got windows to clean."

The kid frowned at him as he wiped his face with a towel.

"That's not what I meant," he said quietly, sinking down on the treadmill, "I just meant that it's late. You should go home and get some sleep."

"You should, too," Gary countered, moving further into the room.

"I can't," Barry sighed, looking up at Gary with a haunted look on his face, "Every time I close my eyes, I see that man's face. I…I _watched_ him die."

Barry shook his head then and stood up from the treadmill again.

"I have to go faster," he muttered, climbing back onto the treadmill.

"Like I said," Gary continued, "That isn't going to help anything. You can't just run away from the problem."

"Well, _I'm_ not the one with a problem!" Barry snapped, " _They_ are."

Gary let out a heavy sigh and shook his head.

"Look, I know you're upset," he said gently, "But you have to look at this from Cisco's point of view."

Barry shook his head at him.

"No, I get it," he breathed, shrugging his shoulders, "He didn't trust me."

"He _does_ trust you, Barry," Gary sighed, " _Now_. Cisco trusts you. What he felt before doesn't matter. What matters is that Cisco trusts you _now_. He's your _friend_."

"Well, forgive me if it doesn't feel that way right now," Barry retorted, "Right now, I don't feel like his friend. I feel like I'm just a set of legs to all of them."

"You know they don't see you that way, Barry," Gary said calmly.

Barry sighed as he sank down on the treadmill again.

"I just don't understand why he didn't tell me," he said quietly, "After he got to know me, why didn't he just _tell_ me about the gun?"

"He was going to tell you," Gary said surely, "I just beat him to the punch."

"And even if you hadn't, it still would have been too late!" Barry snapped, "Somebody _died_ today! Because _I_ wasn't prepared! Because _I_ wasn't fast enough!"

"And now you're just looking for a way to displace that guilt," Gary said wisely, "You're trying to deflect that guilt onto Cisco…because being angry is easier than dealing with what you're really feeling right now."

"You don't _know_ what I'm feeling right now," Barry said irritably, glaring down at his knees.

Gary shook his head sadly at Barry.

"Yes, I do," he said quietly, "Because I've felt it myself."

Barry looked up at him, eyebrows furrowing.

"During my service in 'Nam," Gary sighed, moving over to the treadmill to sink down next to Barry, "I lost a lot of friends. I watched a lot of good men die while I was there. I felt all the things that you're feeling right now."

Barry stared at him, opening and closing his mouth a few times before speaking.

"How did you deal with it?" he whispered.

Gary let out a humorless laugh.

"I didn't," he sighed, "I hit the bottle pretty hard when I got back to the states, spent a lot of time feeling sorry for myself and dwelling on things I couldn't change."

Gary let out a heavy sigh as he looked at Barry.

"But you're better than that, kid," he said softly, "You're not going to do what I did. You're more resilient than that."

Barry shook his head and wiped his eyes.

"How do you know?" he asked quietly, "You barely know me."

"True," Gary shrugged, "But I've seen what you do. You protect this city every day and ask for absolutely nothing in return. You take on responsibilities that aren't your burdens to bare, and you do it with a smile on your face. And…you've already proven you can carry the weight of a heavy past."

Barry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"Cisco told me about your parents," Gary said gently, "About your upbringing…I can't even imagine what that was like."

Barry sighed and looked down at his knees again, a frown fixed on his face.

"But you _overcame_ all of that," Gary continued, "You kept moving forward, and that's what you need to do now. You need to be strong."

Gary sighed and clapped the boy on the shoulder before standing up from the treadmill, moving towards the door. He had said his piece. The rest was up to them.

"And if I'm not strong enough?" Barry asked quietly, causing Gary to turn back around and look at him.

A small smile formed on Gary's face as he looked into the kid's troubled, young eyes.

"Lean on your friends for support."


End file.
